I 8 OUR DOGS. 



comfort to hear the tinkle of his collar when he moved in 

 the night, or to be wakened by his cold nose pushed against 

 one's hand if one slept late in the morning. And then he 

 was always so glad when we woke ; and when any member 

 of the family circle was gone for a few days, Rover's warm 

 delight and welcome were not the least of the pleasures of 

 return. 



And what became of him ? Alas ! the fashion came up 

 of poisoning dogs, and this poor, good, fond, faithful crea- 

 ture was enticed into swallowing poisoned meat. One day 

 he came in suddenly, ill and frightened, and ran to the 

 friends who always had protected him, but in vain. In 

 a few moments he was in convulsions, and all the tears 

 and sobs of his playfellows could not help him ; he closed 

 his bright, loving eyes, and died in their arms. 



If those who throw poison to dogs could only see the 

 real grief it brings into a family to lose the friend and play- 

 fellow who has grown up with the children, and shared 

 their plays, and been for years in every family scene, if 

 they could know how sorrowful it is to see the poor dumb 

 friend suffer agonies which they cannot relieve, if they 

 could see all this, we have faith to believe they never 

 would do so more. 



Our poor Rover was buried with decent care near the 

 house, and a mound of petunias over him kept his memory 

 ever bright ; but it will be long before his friends will 

 get another as true. 



